


a little bit like a train wreck (can't take my eyes off you)

by koicarrot



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, I feel like I should apologize, Mutual Pining, how do you tag?????????, it's only gonna get worse from here, my brain wouldn't stop hitting me in the face with this, my hands have sinned against me, shifter!Bella, so here we go, this is self-indulgent AT BEST and I should be stopped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koicarrot/pseuds/koicarrot
Summary: Bella’s birthday gets a little hairy.The air leaves her lungs with the collision, the growl in her throat smothered in the smell of lilies and motor oil, laced under the crisp scent of the forest at night in the dead of winter. She struggles against the arms around her ribs even as the scent wraps around her brain like a blanket, soothing her fury and terror.“Just when I thought you couldn’t be anymoretrouble you had to go and turn into afucking huge mutt.” The air rushes out of her again in a huff as a cold body finally wrestles her fully to the floor.All fight leaves her at once. Gravity realigns itself, time stops, everything at once makes sense and none at all. Pinning her to the ground, beautiful face twisted in a snarl, was an angel.A whine leaves her throat.And it’s all down(up??)hill from there.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Edward Cullen/ Bella Swan (but not for very long), Jasper Hale & Bella Swan, Rosalie Hale/Bella Swan
Comments: 89
Kudos: 380





	1. All Great Plans (or Parties)...

**Author's Note:**

> My brain said Bella "Useless Lesbian Shifter" Swan and here we are.
> 
> I'm either going to hate myself for this or have WAY too much fun.

Bella really tried to be nothing but honest with herself. She wasn’t looking forward to this birthday party the Cullens (read: Alice) had planned. She _appreciated_ it, but she really didn’t want all of this fussing over her. Charlie joking about her having a grey hair this morning was bad enough, but her perfect, immortal adoptive family throwing a big party?? Thanks but no.

She wasn’t a party girl even on her best day but this was an event that she would be the sole focus of (which is sweet but agonizing); she really wasn’t gung-ho about celebrating her steady progress to old lady-dom (she might definitely be developing a complex); and she thinks she’s caught some weird cold. She laid in bed for the few hours between school and the party, a splitting headache begging her to call the whole mess off, but when Edward had come to pick her up she couldn’t find it in her to say no. So she prayed the Tylenol would stop taking its sweet ass time and let her boyfriend whisk her away.

At least the weather is nice tonight. The ever-present clouds had cleared around dusk, leaving the residents of rainy Forks to be dazzled by an endless expanse of glimmering stars. Before entering the Cullen’s home and submitting herself to the festivities, Bella gives them a fleeting glance. If only she could share in their peaceful evening.

So here she is, opening the Cullens’ egregiously expensive gifts as she tries not to feel their perfect golden eyes on her. It’s uncomfortable, but that they care enough to go to all of this trouble soothed some of her discomfort. Even Rosalie is here, at least pretending she didn’t have better things to be doing.

“And here’s Carlisle and Esme’s present!”

“A little something to brighten your day.”

The little box from Carlisle and Esme is so immaculately wrapped in shimmering teal paper that she feels kind of bad opening it, skimming her finger under the seam to try to save the paper. And immediately gets a paper cut. With a trill of panic she hides the wounded finger in her mouth, wide-eyed and keenly aware that she’s a massive idiot when she tastes copper.

But the silly little human was too slow.

Bella goes to mime to Carlisle for a band-aid with her other hand, an awkward laugh in her throat, only to freeze when she catches the shift in Jasper’s face, a rumbling growl vibrating the room until the tension snaps. Everything happens so fast she only catches it in pieces.

Jasper, no longer the sweet gentleman they know, lunges, weaving through Carlisle and Esme’s attempts to catch him like smoke.

Edward pushes Bella away from him and she sails though the living room. She hits the coffee table, vases shattering underneath her. Her shoulder throbs angrily from landing on it, sharp pain lancing up her arm. 

Edward and Emmett get a hold on Jasper and Alice starts trying to talk him down.

The shattered glass tore Bella’s arm to shreds so now she’s bleeding _everywhere._ Her head is trying to split itself open. God she really has a talent for turning simple things into disasters. 

She is so sick of ruining everything

Everything, for a moment, is still as all eyes fix on Bella ruining the pristine carpet. Then with an earsplitting snarl, Jasper tears himself from Edward’s grip, a loud crack and a grunt indicating something broken for Emmett. Bella watches, almost in slow motion, as he dashes for her again.

She is _so fucking sick_ of being helpless.

All consuming pain. Not the hellfire scorch through her veins of venom, nor her very lifeblood being viciously torn from her veins, but the shattering ache and throb of breaking and resetting bones. All at once, a moment with no ending, then power. A confidence in her body and her abilities that she never thought possible for her. 

She will be helpless no longer.

There’s no plan, only broken, hazy thoughts, more feeling than anything.

_Survive._

_Stop him._

_Family._

_Hurting. Needs to stop._

With a single coiling of her powerful new body, a low warning growl, then she leaps to meet him. It’s like hitting a brick wall, but from the wrong angle.

The air leaves her lungs with the collision, the growl in her throat smothered in the smell of lilies and motor oil laced under the crisp scent of the forest at night in the dead of winter. She struggles against the arms around her ribs even as the scent wraps around her brain like a blanket, soothing her fury and terror. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more trouble you had to go and turn into a _fucking huge mutt._ ” The air rushes out of her again in a huff as a cold body finally wrestles her fully to the floor. 

All fight leaves her at once. Gravity realigns itself, time stops, everything at once makes sense and none at all. Pinning her to the ground, beautiful face twisted in a snarl, was an angel. Not a blonde hair out of place even after wrestling Bella into submission, eyes an impossibly deep black. 

A whine leaves her throat, confused and pleading. She hadn’t meant to anger this stunning creature, she only wanted to stop the fighting. She squirms under her firm hands, seeking to nuzzle her in supplication, to soothe her ire, but she stills immediately when a growl rips from the woman’s chest.

“Ohoho no fucking WAY!”

“Emmet, language…”

“Carlisle.” Her angel’s voice is hard enough to crack diamonds, the power in her silken tones enough to subdue any man or beast. She struggles to keep her tail from wagging at the sound of it. “What the fuck.”

Slowly, one of the others crosses the room, his sharp, sweet scent biting into her nose, but she remains still even as he kneels beside them. He begins murmuring softly, his voice oddly soothing. “How strange… At least all of her cuts have healed… Bella,” her ears twitch as he addresses her and she tenses, seeking permission in her goddess’s face. Her dark eyes narrow warningly but she doesn’t rebuke her, so she angles her ears toward the strange man to give him some of her attention. “Bella, can you change back?”

She grunts, ears folding back. Change back? But she’s so strong like this, they don’t have to worry about her no—Oh.

Right. Her birthday party. This man is Carlisle. These people are the Cullens. She’s destroyed their living room. The stunning woman pinning her is…Rosalie. Who probably isn’t going to let her go until she’s not suddenly a giant dog anymore.

A long, keening whine fills the room that she belatedly realizes is coming from her. She struggles to reign it in but only succeeds in making whimpering pants instead.

“Bella it’s alright, you’re perfectly okay—” No, Carlisle, this is a disaster! 

“Just calm down, darling—” Edward, she’s made a wreck of _everything,_ how could she possibly calm down! 

All that comes out is a high-pitched growl, which does nothing to quell her panic. She starts struggling beneath Rosalie again—she needs to _go,_ but the vampire holds firm, pressing down on her to keep her still. 

“Calm down, mutt. No need to freak out, just relax.” She had never heard Rosalie so soft before, the words a gentle murmur in her ear. She begins to settle almost immediately, the surprise of it accompanied by comforting warmth that seeps into her bones. She nearly melts into the floor when a delicate hand starts to massage her ear. “Relax. Just change back. You’re getting fur all over the carpet.” It actually sounds like Rosalie is making a joke her sake and her chest swells with gratitude and affection, the warmth of it overwhelming. 

She barely even notices as her bones shift and pop back into place, only aware of the safety she finds in the cold crook of Rosalie’s neck and the hand cradling her head, the peace of having the vampire in her arms. Lillies and crisp night air and something she can’t name, spicy-sweet and so rich that it makes her head fuzzy with—

She’s hugging Rosalie. Bella is hugging Rosalie and she is _naked._

With a shriek, Bella scrambles back away from the statue-still blonde, mortified at the shell-shocked look on the other girl’s face. A snicker-turned-cough reminds her that she is naked in a _room full of people_ —fuck if she blushes any harder her head is literally going to _pop_ —and she tries to cover herself. She _refuses_ to make eye contact.

Someone’s jacket—Edward’s—drops into her lap and she immediately hugs it to her chest.

God, why did she have to turn into a giant dog? Why couldn’t she have just mercifully succumbed to death?


	2. Bella and The No-Good, Very Bad Smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all of your sweet comments and questions!!!!! It really blew my mind to get this level of response and I really appreciate the support :)
> 
> This chapter ended up being.... *squints* way fucking longer than the first one, whoops. I would say it's a reward for y'all's patience but i just have no self-control LOL 
> 
> I like this length a lot better?? Just wish it didn't take me a month to write it :P

Bella doesn’t think it’s even the tiniest bit dramatic to say that this is the worst birthday she’s ever had. She thought nothing would ever top lying in bed with food poisoning during a power outage, too sick to concentrate on anything _or_ sleep and no TV to numb her brain, but this really does. Bleeding all over Esme’s lush cream carpet, turning into a massive dog that probably would have torn Jasper’s arm off if it weren’t for Rosalie—and no, no she’s not even going to _touch_ whatever _that_ was. That is for future Bella to deal with if she lives through this absolute travesty of an evening. That she’s now just sitting on the floor with nothing but Edward’s jacket keeping her from being bare-ass naked is really just the icing on the proverbial cake. Hm… speaking of cake—

“Sweetheart, you’ve been groaning into Edward’s jacket for a while now—”

“8 minutes!” Emmett chimes in, helpful as always.

“Are you alright?” Esme gently touches her shoulder and if she had thought the Cullens had been cold before, the gentle touch was arctic now. It makes her jump, but Esme’s soothing voice takes the bite out of it and she sighs, peeking up at the motherly vampire.

“Is the cake okay?” Her voice comes out muffled, still buried from the nose down in Edward’s jacket.

Bella must have seriously been worrying her because at first Esme only blinks, seems to process Bella’s entire lack of priorities, then finally smiles, kind and very, _very_ concerned. “The cake’s fine, dear.” Emmett chokes on a laugh, booming at first then smothered to a crinkling snicker.

Bella sighs, nodding with equal parts relief and detachment, then actually answers. “I’m not having a panic attack, but I think that’s about all I’ve got going for me right now, Esme.” As a side note, her nose has gone numb. She can’t tell if she’s broken it or if her senses are so oversaturated in something they deem repulsive—overly sweet and disgustingly chemical, viscous and burning, what can only be the smell of vampire—that they’ve quit on her.

“That’s certainly a step in the right direction.” Esme’s smile softens. “How about I go get you some clothes?”

“Yes, please.”

She can actually track Esme flitting upstairs and coming back down with her eyes, just a smear of color more than anything but significantly more than she’d been able to see before. That’s. pretty cool, honestly.

She takes the soft bundle of clothes, lowering her modesty shield to smile gratefully, and is immediately bombarded by lilies so strong her breath catches, grip tightening on the soft clothing as she fights off the urge to bury her nose in them or drop them as if they’ve burned her. Her eyes involuntarily flicker to Rosalie, chest tightening when she finds the blonde’s dark eyes intently staring back.

Bella yanks her eyes away, realizes that she forgot to breathe for way too long, exhales slowly.

“Uh,” is that Bella’s voice? When did she decide to talk? “these are Rosalie’s?” She tries to snap her teeth down on the words before they make it out, but the lilies distract her for too long and she only manages to sound concussed.

“Problem, dog breath?” Rosalie could only look more offended if Bella spit on her car, eyes narrowed to smoldering slits, lip curled, divine wrath personified—okay, Bella, we need to have a _talk_.

“Nope, no no, just uh, showing off my new. Nose.” Cancel the talk. Death could not come fast enough. Bella winces, which (un)fortunately means she isn’t looking at Rosalie and therefore can’t see her reaction. The way her entire body locks up in shame is painful, shoulders hunched to a degree that shouldn’t be possible if she weren’t so used to embarrassing herself.

Emmett is laughing like he’d cry for her if he could, shooting straight past his normal booming into wheezing sobs of overwhelmed joy.

Bella would like to live in the timeline where she just took the clothes and left to get changed.

With a sigh that scrapes out of her throat, rough and borderline growling, she says, “I’m going to get changed! Emmett, no looking.” Jumps to her feet—ignoring Emmett’s yelp that sounds more flattered than offended—and marches into the guest bathroom before she can convince herself to somehow phase entirely out of existence.

The door closes behind her and she locks it, falls back against it and slides to the floor with boneless relief.

She just. Needs a fucking minute. Without everyone looking at her while _she is naked_ and/or making a monumental ass of herself ( _in front of Rosalie_ a distant, new-but-not part of her mind hisses, because it is somehow exponentially worse to embarrass herself in front of Rosalie than it is in front of her actual boyfriend of several months) and _that!_ She’s already sick of it!!!

Bella is sick of this new, _intense_ awareness of Rosalie and her opinions. She hasn’t given a single fuck about Edward since everything went off the rails! What is that?! _Edward_ is her boyfriend but she can’t remember looking at him _once_ since she shapeshifted into a snarling mess of fur and-and--!

She snarls in frustration, too pissed off to startle at the animal sound that tears itself from her chest, trembling. She buries her face in her hands—the _clothes_ in her hands and an involuntary deep breath drags her roiling emotions into settling, anger present but simmering underneath the sudden contentment that makes her head fuzzy.

Rosalie smells really, really nice. Like running through a nighttime garden that blooms even in the winter.

No!

She chucks the bundle of clothes across the room, scowling because they have, in fact, offended her. It’s just a little bathroom—a toilet that the Cullens have absolutely no use for, an incredibly ornate sink, and a little linen cabinet—but her point stands! She presses herself against the bathroom door and glares at them with enough vitriol that they might catch fire—with the way her night has been going, it’s a 50/50 shot.

Bella whines, high and panicked, fit to tear her hair out; she would really like this night to be over, but she has a feeling that it’s going to wear out far, far past its welcome. She sighs with a weariness soul deep—exhaustion-limp and strung out at the same time—and shoves onto her feet. She lets the cool tile under her toes ground her.

Staring into her reflection, she doesn’t look any different. Her hair and eyes are exactly the same, no longer or sharper or wilder than they had been when she’d arrived for the party. No claws or fangs. She expected _something_ , but the same old Bella stares back—wait. No. She’s _taller_. It’s not by much—half an inch at the most but it’s enough.

Did supernatural powers really make her _more_ awkward looking?

Her limbs are suddenly too long, her hair not long _enough_ to mask the sudden disparity or the new broadness in her shoulders.

Actually… For a moment, she twists and flexes in the mirror.

Her shoulders look damn good, that can stay. And there’s not so much as a blemish on them. She traces her left arm, brushing where nasty gashes should be and only finding tender skin and dried blood. Carlisle was right, it all really healed when she transformed.

She starts washing off the blood with a sigh, watching the pink swirl down the porcelain drain. The soap doesn’t help much with the vampire smell, considering it’s pouring from _everything_ , but she supposes it’s better than nothing. Visiting will be more uncomfortable for a while, until she gets used to it.

Frowning, she takes a big lungful of air, then coughs it out, eyes watering. “God that’s bad.” It’s definitely going to take a while to get used to _that_. Her sinuses throb like she has a head cold, like her nose is actively trying to close itself off from the abuse.

Emmett’s laugh nearly shakes the walls. “You’re no bed of roses either!” Right. Super-hearing.

“No offense!” She hears the others chuckle and smiles.

Then there’s nothing left to do but get dressed. Her eyes settle on the clothes on the floor. It’s just a lavender hoodie and some sweatpants. It doesn’t matter that they’re Rosalie’s—unless she ruins them, fuck what if she stains them or something Rosalie would _kill her_ —no, no it’s fine. They’re just clothes and this is not weird. Why is Bella making this so weird?

Bella has one leg in before she has the realization that she’s…gonna have to go commando. She can’t even finish thinking through the alternative without feeling like her face is going to burn off, so she just growls and pulls the pants on before she can freak herself out more.

Stop making this weird!!!

Feeling just the tiniest bit hysterical, she yanks the hoodie over her head, and she can’t tell if the smell of lilies enveloping her makes her feel better or worse. It doesn’t hit her quite so hard this time, but something inside of her uncoils, stretches out like a lazy cat in the sun. It’s nice? But honestly _way_ weirder than turning into a giant dog, and she’s too tired to think about it right now.

At least her nose isn’t hurting so much anymore.

Finally coming out of the bathroom, she runs straight into an icy wall that could only be Emmett. She tries to force some of her exhaustion onto him through her eyes, but the delight in his face doesn’t so much as flicker.

“There you are, Bells! We thought you fell in!” His grin is in full force, dimpled mischief so pure that it cajoles a wry smirk out of her.

“I’m glad _someone_ is enjoying my party.”

“Well DUH, Hell Bells, you’re a party animal!”

“Oh _shut up,_ Em!” Laughing— _fuck him_ that was funny and she’s _mad_ _about_ _it_ —she tries to push him out of her way and he lets her pass. Emmett laughs and she grins up at him only to see that his jaw has dropped a little, eyes bright and surprised and it takes her a moment to realize that Emmet hadn't _let_ her do anything—Bella had actually moved him!

Then he lets out a whoop and slings her over his shoulder, quick enough that all she can do is let the air get knocked out of her. He prances around, spinning and chanting—"No longer a noodle, now a poodle!" with a lilting, Puck-ish voice that he does annoyingly well—and while she's definitely stronger now she can't squirm her way out, so she just laughs and beats at his back. It's hard to say whether she feels like a champion or a trophy.

As Emmett parades her around the living room, she notices that Jasper and Alice are missing from the group. It makes sense when she thinks about it. Jasper probably needed to hunt after the whole debacle and was no doubt upset, so Alice went with him.

Bella accidentally lets her eyes land on Rosalie. The blonde is watching them with her arms crossed, her beautiful face unreadable. Then her eyes, on the border between syrup and umber, lock with Bella's. The intensity of it makes her breath catch. Just as she can almost taste the emotion hidden in the blonde's face, Rosalie scowls, breaks the eye contact, and flits out to the garage.

Bella tries to wrestle her disappointment into submission, frustrated that it's suddenly come back. Even if a part of her will probably always be upset that the blonde never even gave her a chance, she'd made her peace with the fact that Rosalie would never like her a long time ago. But something inside her cracks as she watches Rosalie leave and it’s insanely annoying to realize it still hurts.

It’s probably for the best Jasper and Alice aren’t here right now, actually.

She buries her face in Emmett’s shoulder to hide her frown, choking on what was going to be a steadying breath because Rosalie’s clothes had let her forget for a moment that vampires now smell like candy and _bleach_. Emmett sets her down, smirking as she covers her nose with her hand and tries to violently expel the smell from her lungs with a hacking cough.

“Hey, at least I don’t smell like a pack of wet dogs!”

Bella tries to focus on the other scents in the house, even the faint smell of the forest beyond the windows, lets her nose distract her from her thoughts, and pouts for the fun of it. “Am I at least a pretty dog?”

“Weeeeeeell, more _wolf_ than dog. Like the forest threw up.”

Bella frowns, something scratching at the back of her brain, demanding her attention.

Carlisle cuts in then, thoughtful and almost talking over himself in apparent interest. “You had a rather interesting piebald patterning, though I’m curious as to why your coat didn’t seem to be fully grown out.”

There’s more, but the gnawing sensation in her mind intensifies, to the point that she couldn’t pay attention to Carlisle’s musings if she tried. She tries to physically scratch at the feeling, agitated, and wracks her brain for the source.

Billy’s voice echoes in her ears, crackling with hypnotic fervor over a dozen summer’s worth of campfires.

“….oh _fuck_ I am _such_ _a moron_.” She drops into a crouch, curling in on herself to contain the frustration that tears through her and to cope with the sudden vertigo that accompanies her realization. 

“Bella! Language!” It’s adorable, almost comforting, that Esme is scolding her as if this was normal and Bella wasn’t having a breakthrough/break _down_.

“But Esme!!! I’m so, _so_ stupid!! _Of course_ if the part of the legends about the _Cold Ones_ —you guys!!”—she sweeps her hands out at them emphatically, nearly whopping Edward in the shin as he hovers uncertainly beside her—"is true, why wouldn’t the part about people _shapeshifting into giant wolves_ also be true!?”

“Bella, you need to calm down or you’re going to shift again.” Carlisle’s cold hand on her shoulder makes her realize she’s shivering. She can’t tell if her teeth are actually shifting in her mouth, snapping to form a new jaw, or if the whirlwind of emotions is simply making her grit her teeth hard enough to crack.

“The revelation of vampires being real was overwhelming enough on its own. It’s perfectly understandable that you hadn’t thought about the existence of the wolves before.” Edward was always so reasonable, steady despite his flair for dramatics, and the familiarity of it helps her to focus through the haze of her whirling mind. She takes thick gasps of air, feeling the room sway as she sits fully on the floor, digs her fingers into the plush carpet.

The urge to run and tear ebbs but the tremble in her hands remains. She runs her tongue through her mouth, checking for fangs, and lets a sigh of relief rush past her blunt teeth. “I feel like I’m losing my _mind_.”

“I want to reassure you that this is entirely normal, Bella.” Knelt beside her, Carlisle’s face conveys nothing but sincerity and sympathy and it’s comforting, but close enough to pity that she doesn’t quite want it. “Shifters have heightened, often volatile emotions. It will get better with practice and time, but you will need to be careful. Just remember to breathe, ground yourself."

She nods along, takes another deep breath and releases it slowly. Her hands loosen their grip on the carpet, opting to fidget with the strands. “Do you have a lot of experience with uh, Shifters?”

“Somewhat. The Quileute pack isn’t very fond of us, but we’ve also encountered other groups over our travels, so I have some general knowledge.”

“There are others?”

“Quite a few, although their presence can be rather sporadic, many are nomads, and they aren’t just wolves. We’ve encountered Shifters that turn into bears, tigers, foxes, deer. And all of them have a wide variety of circumstances for their shifting, not just as means to defend against vampires.” His smile takes a wry edge and she laughs weakly.

“So, what are the uh, basics?” As much as she wants all of the lore, she can feel her energy flagging and an ache in her entire body that makes her tempted to just spread out on the floor and let it all drag her into unconsciousness.

Her stomach lets out an unholy snarl before Carlisle can speak, drawing a chuckle from the good doctor. Esme has a massive plate of cake in front of her before the sound settles—Bella’s certain Esme’s gift is knowing when someone needs something—and the decadent chocolate and buttercream frosting makes this entire mess worth it.

Carlisle talks while she eats—“Man, Bella, you’re really _wolfing_ it down!” She chokes trying to swallow and tell Emmett he’s lame at the same time and the giant meets her glaring, watering eyes with glimmering victory.

She gets the gist of it, although the more she tries to focus on what Carlisle’s saying, the more she feels her brain going to mush. Heightened emotions. Heightened senses. Increased strength and agility. Accelerated healing. Radical growth spurt. Mental group chat. Turning into a giant wolf. None of it is overly complicated, although explaining to Charlie why Bella grew six inches and packed on 20 pounds of muscle in the next week might be.

Carlisle pauses for a moment, considering something. “You weren’t experiencing any odd changes lately, were you?”

She thinks over the last couple of weeks, shakes her head uncertainly. “I’ve been having migraines lately, but nothing like you described. No fevers or suddenly being taller.” She pauses to swipe up a glob of icing with her finger, popping it into her mouth without an ounce of shame, then shrugs. “Well, not until after I shifted. I think I’m a little taller now, maybe a half-inch.”

There’s a shout somewhere else in the house from Emmett, the echo of it muddling whatever dig he was making about her still being short. She absently wonders when he had wandered away. There’s a low hiss that follows his shouting, easily identifiable—although there’s only one person left that it could be.

She rubs at her eyes, coming out of her thoughts of the garage to find Carlisle and Edward sharing a look. Before Bella can even frown, the moment ends and Carlisle nods. “Well, we’ll keep an eye on things. Make sure to let us know if you start to feel nauseous or experience any discomfort. You may have shifted before your body was fully prepared, so you might have more difficulty adjusting.”

She nods with a yawn that cracks her jaw. Edward brushes a hand against her shoulder, chuckling. “Bedtime for the human.”

She smiles, ignores the wry urge to correct him, and climbs to her feet, wobbling as the exhaustion tries to drag her back down. When did she even get this tired?

Esme tuts as Bella tries to take her plate to the kitchen, gesturing to Edward and lifting the plate from unsuspecting hands with a fleeting kiss to her forehead that leaves the half-asleep girl flustered, sputtering as Edward gently ushers her out to the car. Feeling teamed up on, Bella looks to Carlisle for some kind of defense, but he only shrugs helplessly, “You know Esme runs things, Bella,” smiling as if he’s proud of how his wife and son are babying her.

She pouts stubbornly, leaning deadweight against Edward’s hands on her shoulders, growling when her feet just slide over the floor.

“You might want to carry her, Edward,” lilts Esme’s deceptively sweet voice and before Bella can finish gasping in offense and betrayal, Edward has literally swept her off her feet. The Cullen matriarch has the audacity to shrug, the glow of her eyes compromising the innocence of her concerned frown, “You don’t have any shoes, dear.”

Bella graciously resigns to the undignified treatment, going limp in Edward’s arms.

“Oh, Bella,” she lets her head list toward Carlisle as Edward pauses, “It likely goes without saying, but the La Push pack will be able to answer the questions I can’t. I would recommend giving them a call in the morning.”

The brunette nods, hoping the little twist of anxiety in her stomach doesn’t show on her face. “Yeah, I’ll call Uncle Billy first thing.” She hopes this doesn’t turn into a big deal.

\---

As Edward pulls away from the glowing glass mansion, Bella swears she sees a slender silhouette standing at the mouth of the garage, but it’s gone when she blinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell Emmett is the outlet for all of my chaotic impulses? 
> 
> Drop any questions in the comments! I'll try to respond to everyone as best as I can.
> 
> I know I told someone that Book 1 was totally canon, but that's not *exactly* true. It's like,,, 98% canon. The things that *are* different will be addressed over time. I really hate exposition and prefer to sprinkle info around, so let me know if something comes up and it's not making sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I had way too much fun whoops LOL
> 
> I'm hoping this will get less rough the more i get kind of,,, warmed up? I haven't really written at length for probably 6 years.
> 
> fingers crossed!
> 
> Shoutout to my best friend for giving it a look over, You are The MVP!
> 
> (I actually rewatched the beginning of New Moon for a quick and lazy refresher and I physically receded into myself the whole time)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by and entertaining my bullshit


End file.
